The Devil's Redemption
by MoonBox87
Summary: Madame Giry and Meg move to America to start a new life as a teacher and student of the Metropolitan Opera, but what happens when a struggling Meg is rescued by a certain former phantom and becomes his pupil? Will they be able to keep their deal a secret, especially from a visiting Christine and Raoul?
1. Chapter 1

**So...here I am in the Phantom of the Opera genre. Truth be told I've had this story sitting on my USB for ages :p I need to publish it to get my butt on to this darn story! Anyway, hope you like it. **

**Also I used free translation to translate some of the french so if it says anything like chickens love mick jagger. Blame them XD**

* * *

Chapter One: Bienvenue en Amérique

"Meg, my love, we have arrived."

Sighing away the melancholy that seemed to plague her for the past week. Meg turned and leaned to peer out the porthole window of their ship. There, looming in the foggy distance but growing ever closer stood the Statue of Liberty, a symbol of freedom, of a new start, a chance to live…

And of their escape.

Perhaps escape was too strong a word, they weren't escaping, no one was after them. They were just fleeing the aftermath France's greatest disaster.

Her mother always said the Opera Populaire was the jewel of Paris; a palace to the kings and queens of song and dance, where a person could escape the mundane monotony of everyday life and believe, even for a few hours that magic still existed.

In the opera's heyday life was golden, a city grew and thrived in its spectacular light, people lived to _live_, lived to love. The night of the fire killed more than just the unfortunate opera patrons, it seemed to have claimed the very spirit of opera. When the flames were all put out and the panic subsided, everyone was left wondering 'what now?' The infant owners of the Opera, Monsieur Firmin and Andre wanted nothing to do with their latest endeavor, disappearing before the lawsuits even had time to be drawn up. Offers for the opera were slow to come in, most potential buyers far too afraid with the macabre history of the stage to commit to a purchase. Time passed, the frail opera house fell even further into disrepair, the workers slowly moved on and the grey blanket of death took hold. No operas meant no visitors, the toruist-dependant businesses fell under and soon the slums rose on the carcasses of once upscale hotels.

If someone believed enough in the Opera Populaire's potential, perhaps not even then. After all, who would dare to enter the _Phantom's_ Opera House?

Meg often wondered what happened to the ghost who so loved and adored Christine. The god turned mortal by her unrequited love? Logic would say he perished in the flames, but the reality never set right in her mind.

He was truly a marvel to Meg. Though she knew little of him in the beginning, blinded mainly by her cryptic mother, she learned he was a genius. One who could master anything with little to no practice or study and used all he learned to create a world of magic for the girl he loved. His devotion pegged him as one who would fling himself into the arms of death should his love turn him away, however a bitter jealousy, underhanded dealings, and a need to posses and control told the story of a narcissist, would a narcissist kill himself? Regardless of the sorrow?

As they left the ship and climbed into a taxi carriage, Meg put the Phantom away in her mind and focused on the day ahead.

It was not forgotten that Madame Giry was one of the finest ballet instructors in France. Within a week of the fire, 15 job offers found their way to her. Meg pleaded her mother to take one in France, unable to bear the thought of leaving her childhood home. Madame Giry wouldn't have it and decided to move them as far away from the Populaire and its ghosts as possible.

New York however was not without promise. In a few months the Metropolitan Opera, the first opera house in America would be opening and with it an elite school of performing arts. Meg was a brilliant dancer; the art came as naturally to her as breathing and sleeping from the day she was born. The most gifted performers were pulled to headline each and every opera. Madame Giry, along with several other reputable dance instructors could insure that Meg would become the world famous dancer she always wanted to be.

"Will we be staying at the opera house?" Meg asked, deciding she'd sulked long enough. The congested dock area had given way to wide streets lined with large town homes and businesses. People of high statuses strolled on the newly paved sidewalks, some zoomed by on lightweight carriages. It was almost like Paris to Meg.

Madame Giry finished relaying some directions to the cab driver and turned to Meg. "A really good friend of mine was kind enough to loan his estate to us."

"We're staying with a man?!" Meg yelled, nearly fainting in her chair, if word got out that a widow and her teenaged daughter were staying with a man, they would be shamed out of America! Madame Giry tapped her daughter on the head, "Do not be silly, Monsieur Levante is away on safari, it will just be the two of us. I expect you to be on your best behavior and refrain from touching anything that does not belong to you." She warned.

Meg smirked but nodded to show she understood, "And when the opera opens?"

"From there you will be assigned a form like any other student while I'll be assigned a room in the opera house."

"The L'école D'anges would have given us a room in the opera house together." Meg argued with a sigh.

"Let us not fight over this, it's a new beginning . Let us make the most of it." Madame Giry pleaded, extending a hand to her daughter.

Meg smirked, had she another choice? Resigning to her new fate, she feigned a smile for her mother's sake and took her hand, "Very well, a new beginning."

* * *

**:D**


	2. Chapter 2

**Ok so here it is, Chapter 2! Sorry for the long update, I've just been really busy at work and will probably continue to be so. I've decided that I'll be doing shorter chapters so I can update a little more frequently for yous guys :3**

**Anywaysees, read and review ;)**

* * *

The agenda of the day was to get settled into their temporary dwelling, but not before dropping in to see the opera house.

"Wow..." Meg breathed as she stepped out of the carriage and looked up. While not as ornate as her Opera Populaire, the theater Meg and Madame Giry would call home was as large and foreboding as the rumors dictated; two seven story buildings greeted them, sewn together with a large, slightly shorter building between them. It was almost deceptive in it's outer appearance, looking more like standard New York City offices than a place of performing arts- in fact the only thing that seemed to give the clandestine edifice away were the posters of American actors and singers that adorned the walls and the minuscule ticket box in the center of the entryway. Meg wondered why the owners accepted such a bland facade in lieu of Roman columns with half naked sculptures depicting the basis of drama and comedy like her former home or at least an elegant tandem curved stairway. The thought was so baffling and mind consuming at the time that she failed to see where she was going and bumped into someone.

A homeless looking man who was plucking up a discarded flyer for the Met's opening show went crashing to the ground. Some of the passersbys and opera employees looked in the direction of the commotion but upon realizing it involved a vagrant, quickly resumed their lives, Madame Giry included.

"Forgive me!" Meg cried, reaching for his arm, "I was not paying attention, oh do forgive me."

"There is nothing to forgive, Miss," the voice slithered out from under the man's tattered sun hat, creeping with a familiar chill through the air and into Meg's ears. She froze in her tracks, eyes and mouth wide with frightful shock. Her heart jumped into her throat before palpitating manically as the world around turned grey and slowed, 'Th-that voice...' She wondered.

"Meg, what are you doing?" She turned to see her mother was almost inside the theater, " I told you not to be lollygagging about!"

Meg turned back to see the man had vanished, she looked around, bewildered, "Where?"

"Morgana Angelique Giry," Madame Giry called, showing Meg she meant business.

**_Masquerade!_**

Visions of the days of the Opera Populaire swirled about inside her mind; the dancers, the singers and the man who haunted its very existence were as ghosts about her head.

**_Masquerade, paper faces on parade..._**

**_...Did I not instruct for box 5 to be kept empty?_**

"Whoa..." she said to herself, trying decipher between the true world around her and the world within her mind.

**_Christine, Christine, let me see her..._**

**_I'm frightened..._**

"No..." she whispered, frantically trying to shoo away the memories and get a grasp on reality once more, "It couldn't be...it's not him..." She said, smiting the images like a snuffer on a candle flame.

**_...Who is your Angel of Music?..._**

Breathing, Meg rose and with the world clasped tightly in her gloved hand looked around, the mystery man nowhere to be seen; vanishing as quickly as he came.

"Meg!" Madame Giry shouted, the blonde jumped and with one last glance, started inside after her mother.

* * *

The answer that plagued her thoughts prior to the incident with the homeless man would come from within the walls of the Met. From the massive stage that sat nestled in the center of a gold and burgundy theater. It was so much like home and yet so different, the layout was similar, though there were less private boxes and no sculptures. The blazing Sun chandelier greatly outshone the now infamous one of the Opera Populaire and was framed by four intricately drawn portraits of cherubs in the heavens. There was not a single moulding that did not sport some hand made engraving. She'd been instructed by her mother not to gaze about like the foreigner she was, but the large stage, bustling workers and practicing orchestra were too much for her young heart to ignore.

"Madame Giry, how exciting to see you here so early!" A voice called. The dance instructor and her daughter turned to the left to see a very flamboyant wisp of a man bounding down the third row towards them, his arms wide open.

Madame Giry faced him calmly and stuck out her hand in offerance before he had the chance to embrace her, "Monsieur James Diversey, I presume?" She asked. Meg had to stifle a laugh; her mother was a great many things but the hugging sort was not one of them.

Mr. Diversy lost none of his energy to her rejection, transferring it into a rather vigorous handshake that nearly took off the elder blonde's arm, "You presume correctly," he said, his green eyes twinkling, peppered mustache splitting apart in a wide grin, "I am the stage director as well as the academy's arithmetic instructor. Forgive me but you are far more handsome than the rumors imply."

Madame Giry straightened, "You're too kind, Monsieur." She stated simply, elbowing a snickering Meg. She got her comeuppance when her mother shifted to introduce her, "My daughter had also accompanied me on this excursion," she announced, leaving her to suffer the same overzealous salutation, "You've also brought-Meg, is it?" He asked, eyeing the girl like a new puppy. Meg pulled away, curtsing to make up for her abrupt retraction

"How marvelous." he continued, "Well I do hope you'll forgive the state of the theatre and hold it as no measures of my capabilities," he stated, gesturing to the chaos of the work going on.

"Naturally, Monsieur, it is we who have arrived too early," Madame Giry stated, "We misjudged the length of the trip from England to America. I am just as eager, however to start my work."

"That can most certainly be arranged, Madame, I'll just need to notify the headmistress." he nodded to an older lady on the stage to remind him of that promise before turning back to the two women, "For now however, how about the tour of the theater and company?"

Meg's ears perked at that, the dance company as well?

He gestured for them to follow him.


	3. Chapter 3

The tour of the Met and its adjoining academy left Meg with her thoughts from before. Who was the man who seemed to possess the devil's seductive tenor and where had he gone? Meg wanted to believe it was the phantom in disguise, but her left brain cried for the likely truth. What were the chances that the phantom was in New York at the same time they were, and even if he was, what were the chances they'd meet? New York was a vast city full of thousands if not millions of people.

Meg remembered the last time she'd actually seen him, it was on the stage during the play '_Don Juan Triumphant_.' He'd disappeared with Christine into a deep well in the center of the stage. Meg tried to chase them, fearful for her friend's safety. That had been the first time she defied her mother and as a result showed her mother that she was a lot braver and stronger than Madame Giry gave her credit for. Her mother finally broke down that night and told her everything. The Phantom of the Opera was no more than a man, a genius who had fallen in love with Christine and wanted to keep her from Raoul. Meg would never admit it but her heart went out to the jilted soul, one's love was precious regardless of the means in which they expressed it, though she had to admit he took it too far. She'd missed everything, arriving only to find something that unbeknownst to her mother she'd stolen and kept very close.

The young blonde shook her head and chuckled to herself, she had to be completely insane to obsess with the whole debacle. It was more logical to believe he was killed for his crimes against the opera. If only she could have asked Christine, maybe it was the whole mystery of it all that kept her attention. Perhaps had she the chance and been able to speak to her friend about all that had happened, maybe then this would only be a silly childhood memory.

It was then her attention turned, to thoughts of her dear friend. Raoul whisked her away before Meg could even say goodbye. She missed her terribly and made mental note to write her as soon as they were settled.

"Ahh, we are in luck!" she heard Mr. Diversey say, "Might I introduce our other dance instructor, Madame Soleil," Mr. Diversey gestured to a hall on the right, to the darkened corner from which perhaps the most terrifying woman emerged. Meg had to tilt her head up slightly as a tall and lanky woman glided towards them, she was about the same age as Madame Giry, but far less kind looking. Her svelte body was shrouded in what looked like a bohemian robe, long manicured fingers were covered in expensive looking rings of various shapes and sizes, a tight red bun held up her wrinkling, narrow face as best as it could.

Madame Soleil closed the distance between them and looked down her nose at the two blondes, "Madame Giry, I presume?" she drawled, fanning a careless hand in their general direction as a way to acknowledge them.

The elder Giry curtsied slightly, "Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Madame Soleil. It is always a joy to meet a fellow instructor." Meg could tell by her tone that this was as nice as she was going to be to the condescending instructor.

"Forgive me," Meg spoke up, Madame Soleil cast her icy gaze upon her, causing Meg to literally shiver, "Why are there to be two instructors?"

"Madame Soleil is to be the instructor for the junior dancers," Mr. Diversey explained, he turned to Madame Soleil, "As Madame Giry is to instruct the senior dancers."

Meg bit her lip and shrank back, regretting bringing up the sore subject. It was not discussed, but common knowledge that the senior instructor earned a higher salary and was the one who got to train the dancers that would actually perform in the plays, by the way Madame Soleil straightened and caused her thin painted lips to disappear further it was obvious that the arrangement was not one she was particularly pleased with.

"Yes, well I'm sure you'll be more at ease here, we've many things in this opera, but we seem to be...lacking in the apparition department."

Meg stiffened at Madame Soleil's blatant attack on their past.

"Ah!" Mr. Diversey cut in, unwittingly but gratefully breaking the tense air between them, "If I'm not mistaken, Mademoiselle Giry is to be one of your students, is that not correct, Madame Soleil?" he asked.

Meg's stomach dove into her feet, that beast was to be her teacher? She glanced upwards at her mother, why hadn't she told her?

"I hope you are prepared to learn and work hard, Étudiant, I was unable to study you as I did the other students so I will have my eye trained especially on you. I certainly presume you are of some talent and not one who flies in under the wing of a certain noted dance instructor whom she has the fortune of being the daughter of."

Ah, so there it was, the real source of the contempt for Meg and her mother. In her naivete, Meg assumed it had to do with money. It was however a case of suspected nepotism.

Her stance expressed, Madame Soleil turned to her co-instructor, "You've been very silent, Madame Giry, could it be I have hit the nail too directly on the head for your liking?" She asked with a smile of self satisfaction.

The veteran dancer would not be put off by silly remarks, "I've no need to jump to Meg's defense. Her talent will speak for itself, Madame Soleil." she stated, lifting her head in proud defiance, "It has been a pleasure meeting you, now of you'd be so kind, I have a studio to prepare." she said and with a curt bow turned and motioned for Mr. Diversey to show her the classroom that would be hers. Leaving Meg alone with the tiger in ballet shoes.

Though fear was coursing through her veins, Meg clasped her hands in front of her and stood erect, not wanting to give her teacher another thing to complain about.

"Tell me, Meg, do you consider yourself a good dancer?" she asked, circling her new pupil.

"I have studied hard since I was a small child-,"

"I did not ask how long you have been studying," she cut her off, "I asked if you considered yourself a good dancer. I ask because I have high expectations of you. This opera company is predicted to be the best of the best, to make such a claim true, we need the best of the best dancers. You are not aware of it, but the road to get to this point was long and arduous. The world's finest dancers had to apply and reapply to even get an audition, I crushed so very many dreams for the benefit of this company and yet through all my work, one student was smuggled in, cloaked by her mother's reputation."

Her words angered Meg, she could feel her face getting hot, her heart beating with fury instead of fear.

"I'm no one's nanny, if my suspicions are correct and you're in fact not up to par, I've no time for you. Save yourself the embarrassment now, Meg and resign from this-,"

"I am more that simply up to par!" Meg nearly shouted, taking her teacher by surprise, "I've danced in all 10 of France's most notable opera houses and starred in nearly all of the Opera Populaire's shows from the time I was 4. I eat, sleep and breath dance, practicing until my muscles scream and my toes bleed. I have worked hard to get where I am and will not be passed off as some dance brat by someone who hasn't seen me dance!"

"Meg," the blonde turned to see her mother had returned, she seemed to be unaware of what had just transpired, but was as always on her guard. She bowed to Madame Soleil. The redhead curtsied back, but kept her glare on Meg.

Meg subjugated herself, remembering her mother's advise to always treat your superiors with respect, "Madame Soleil...I...I am ready to work hard for you and this company, thank you for being my instructor," she choked.

"The pleasure," Madame Soleil hissed, "is certainly all mine. Rest well, Meg and prepare to work...hard." she said.

Though she dare not look, Meg could feel the heat of Madame Soleil's glare on the back of her neck and wondered if she made the right decision to lash out the way she had.

Needless to say the first night at her temporary home was a restless one, filled with nightmares of the tiger in ballet shoes and dreams of the broken voiced homeless man.


	4. Chapter 4

New York City, my hell sweet hell full of grey and black that seemed to be forged especially for me and me alone. These cold city streets embrace me each morning with the bitter bouquet of cigarettes and sewage, the night lulls me to sleep with the screams and shouts of angry citizens, tin vaudeville from the local bars and my own weeping song. The abundant skyscrapers greet me each morning like an angry jury of concrete and steel, glaring down at me with hatred and contempt.

Hah, as though I hadn't grown up with that cold, frightful stare as my constant companion. I was a monster, a creature of the night that belonged nowhere and with no one. As _she_ had made so perfectly clear, my love, the only light in my dreary existence. The Goddess who so readily opened her arms for me, then just as readily turned me away.

Ahh...not that I deserved her. I'd done great wrongs, terrible wrongs for which there can be no right. I stole, I lied, I intimidated, I killed. I deserved loneliness, I deserved a life of solitude, a life where I could break away from my failed empire and return to a life of being ignored. This city, this racing town filled with cold and distant people who barely spare a passing glance away from their seemingly important lives is just the place I need.

It was far away from them, far away from her, far away from everything.

Or so I thought...

* * *

_My Dearest Friend Meg,_

_I pray this letter finds you in good health and great happiness, especially since we have not seen one another since the wedding. I trust the trip to New York was uneventful? I certainly hope so. I've wonderful news for you, my friend. Raoul's work will be taking him to your new home within the next month and I'm to accompany him! We're to stay with you for a few weeks or so. I've longed to see you and share all the experiences I've had on my excursion to India and London. It'll be as when we were children in the dormitories of the Opera Popilaire, but I digress. Stay safe in New York, I've heard it can be as dangerous as it is beautiful._

_Sincerely,_

_Christine_

A smile crept across Meg's lips as she read and re-read the letter that had been delivered to her during breakfast. The two blondes had been settled in the grandiose mansion of Madame Giry's friend Mr. Levante for about three days now, time that contrary to popular belief seemed to crawl by since arriving.

It was not that Meg was ungrateful or belittling of their temporary home, the two story French styled chateau that sat perfectly in the middle of 16 forest covered acres was absolutely awe inspiring. Meg hardly spent her first day indoors, opting to venture out to the stables for a ride through the country and a few hours on the lake. She loved the hunting and the fishing and sitting out on the lanai and gazing at the abundance of stars. It was just that she was a city child, born and bred in the heart of Paris. The hustle and bustle of the metropolitan areas ran through her veins, her soul cried for chaos and cacophony.

"You seem happy, good news, my pet?" Madame Giry asked, her long hair cascaded down her left shoulder which was jutted upwards as she was leaning on the armrest of the chair at the head of the table; one hand was curled around a piping hot cup of coffee, the other was cradling a crisp newspaper. Her weathered eyes had been watching her daughter as she read the letter Charlotte, Monsieur Levante's maid had handed to her.

Meg looked up at her mother and nodded, "It's wonderful news, Mam'a," she said eagerly, setting down the letter and buttering a hot bun, "Christine is coming to visit!"

Madame Giry smiled, "I know," she said, "She and the Viscount de Chagny are to stay with us. I'd been dying to tell you, but thought it best if Christine told you herself. Are you excited?"

"Very much so, I've missed her dearly," Meg admitted.

"I've even more exciting news, Mr. Levante is to hold a ball here when she arrives."

"A ball, why?"

"Well, she'll be arriving around the time the opera opens and as a benefactor to the opera and a large fan of Christine, he's insisted upon holding it here." Madame Giry explained.

An abrupt ringing sound made them both jump, both mother and daughter alike looked around in utter bewilderment, trying to locate the source of the sound. It would stop, then ring out again, then stop, then ring out again.

"Charlotte!" Madame Giry called out, frightened.

Mr. Aberdeen, the lanky old groundskeeper responded, lumbering through the dining room towards the kitchen, "No need ta be froightnened, mum," he stated in a butchered English accent, "it's just theh tel-e-phone."

He disappeared into the kitchen, the ringing stopped and was followed by Mr. Aberdeen's voice, "Mr. Levante's residence...yes you may connect him...Mr. Levante's residence...yes, she's here...one moment please...thank you."

Madame Giry and Meg looked at one another in total confusion, Madame Giry mouthed a quizzical 'Telephone?' to Meg, who just shrugged. They turned in unison to look at Mr. Aberdeen as he made his way into the dining room, "There's a telephone call for you, Madame Giry." He stated with a bow.

With the help of Mr. Aberdeen the two blondes got to use a new and rather fascinating invention designed to allow two people to talk from over a great distance apart. Madame Giry had to be taught the basics, such as not screaming into the mouth horn and how to hold the receiver to her ear so she could hear what the person was saying. Being younger, Meg took to the idea of the machine faster and laughed as her mother attempted to talk to the wooden box hanging to the wall as though the person was inside. As she got over her initial shock from the abrupt ringing, Meg remembered hearing of this new Telephone idea but had no idea that it was already being implemented commercially, she couldn't wait to see the look on Christine's face when the phone rang, if it ran, and she really hoped it would.

Meg watched her mother end the conversation, "Who was it, Mama?" she asked.

"Monsieur Diversey, he says I'm needed at the opera," she said, handing the receiver to Mr. Aberdeen.

Meg frowned, "But what about our shopping plans?" she asked, dejected. The reason they were up so early was because they'd planned to spend the day in the city getting necessities, new clothes and ballet shoes.

"They're not cancelled, Morgana, don't make such a childish fuss." She scolded, earning a subjugated frown from her daughter as the use of her full name, "I'll just have to make a little detour while we're in town. Now," she said with a stomp of her favorite teaching cane, "Hurry up and get your coat, we depart in a few minutes."


End file.
